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Vishranthi
5.30 a.m. Had she to get up so early? The milkman had kept two sachets at the doorstep. She took them in and went inside to boil the milk. "Why" she asked herself preparing the coffee decoction. "Old habits die hard". At the hospital they would be expecting her for duty only at 11 a.m., it being her last day there. Time seemed to have gallopped so fast. It looked as if she had joined as staff nurse only last year, but today she was 58, and ready to retire. The authorities would have gladly granted her extension but she wanted to get away and be all by herself, away from the circle of hospital, and home. Her life was like a top spinning constantly and stopping rarely. From now on it need not. Would n't have to. She took her coffee and sat on the verandah steps to read the paper leisurely……….
He husband, Raghavan had been an accountant in a private firm and she had joined the hospital immediately after completing her nursing training. They did not have much money, but they could live without care and spare money for a rainy day. Vinita and Vikram were like two bobs of light dancing in the field of their life. It was sheer joy to listen to their prattle. The foursome would often sit in the verandah in the evening and talk till dinner time. May be they did not go to the movies much or dine out often. But, Raghavan and Malathy made it a point to take the children to the beach every fortnight. Theirs was a simple happy middle class family when the thunderbolt struck……….
She was getting ready to leave for work when the phone rang. "Would she come to the Government Hospital at Royapettah at once?" Her husband had been admitted there. She felt vaguely uneasy and reached the hospital in no time. She was taken to Room Number Eight (she had never liked that number). She went in to see a lifeless form. He had been brought in dead from a road accident, when his scooter slid over some pumpkin pieces strewn on the road. She was speechless with grief. Tears refused to flow. It was as if a tonne of ice had been pressed on her. She felt cold and indifferent to whatever happened around. Someone thrust a mug of coffee in her hand and made her drink it.
"This morning we talked of taking the children to Vedanthangal sanctuary", she wailed shattering the painful stillness. She was silent again and refused to talk to anyone. Tears flowed down continuously as she brought home her husband dead. The children waited for her at the verandah, which had seen happier times, She could hear her husband asking their son on the progress of his cricket practice and could see him helping out the daughter with a mathematical problem. Drawing the children closer to her, she crumpled on the steps. She would never see him again, never hear his voice once more. Some door had shut in tight at her face as he walked over life. There was no key to open it. That was it! She wailed and wailed like a village woman who would beat her breasts in despair.
But Malathy was a brave woman. Ten days after the funeral, his office offered her an ex-
Twelve years passed away quickly. Vikram turned twently-
Vinita was twenty-
The clock chimed ten. Malathy roused herself to reality. She had to be at the hospital soon and she wanted to spend this last day in the best possible way. There was not much work for her in the hospital. She accompanied the doctor in his rounds and went inside the children's ward. One little boy pestered her to tell a story. He reminded her of her grandson and of course of Vikram as a child who had insisted, he should be told a story with every morsel of food. Those were happier days with Raghavan by her side. She remembered the letter Vikram had written to her a few days back.
"Amma, I am going to marry Janet this month. Now it'll be difficult for you to come and stay with us here. Janet's views will not gel with yours. Don't worry. I'll send you $250 every month." She could not read the letter further. Her son seemed to measure security in terms of money and not love. She had struggled all along alone to mould him into a man only to be rebuked when old age waited for her. She wrote to him that she didn't need his money. Her pension from the hospital would suffice. He did not reply.
Malathy walked back slowly to the nurse's restroom, where she would be till the evening's function to wish her a warm farewell from colleagues who really cared for her. She sat at her desk and closed her eyes, measuring out her life, its inputs and outputs. She had given her children money, education and a good upbringing. But she was left alone to face a lonely retirement. It was like walking through a deserted street at midnight. Why had Virkram changed so suddenly? No answer. Perhaps it was the novelty of a new country and the intoxication of self-
She heard someone talking. It was a young nurse of Vinita's age, talking to her colleague. She was telling her how difficult it was to cope with school maths these days. Malathy saw a little girl running upto her father with her maths notebook. Vinita wrote to her now and then and telephoned even less frequently. Perhaps she was busy with the baby. She tried to reason out her daughter's negligence. How could she ever think of going and staying with such a daughter? Malathy's independent nature squirmed at the very thought of pleading for affection.
She could not bear to live in the old house anymore. She did not even own it. It was too full of memories, some happy, some sad. She wanted to get away from it all; to start life fresh, but not alone. She had, inspite of serious misgivings, thought of settling with her children. But even that avenue was now closed. But where could she stretch her legs? Where could she get 'vishranthi' she wanted to know. And this was the moment to decide.
There was a knock at the door. The ward-
She wiped her tears and drank her coffee. Picked up a newspaper and began to read. Her attention was drawn to a news item. It spoke about the opening of 'VISHRANTHI', a centre for the aged. It was mainly for old destitute women, but a few paid accomodations were also available. Run by a team of dedicated housewives who did acts of charity very quietly, without fanfare. She had met one of them a few days ago, in the market. The care-
Dear Vinita,
Glad to hear you are going to London. More opportunities more exposure. Sorry I cannot join you in London, which is too cold for me. (she was too proud to admit, she was not invited). You needn't worry about me. I can take care of myself pretty well. Write to me once a while and try to visit me if you can. I'll write to you my new address. I do not want to stay in the old house any longer, nor can I afford to telephone to you frequently. I am retiring to-
Yours,
Malathy.
She sent for the peon to post the letter. She should write to the Trust which ran 'VISHRANTHI', or better still meet one of the office-
She had to dress up for the occasion. It was an occasion to celebrate. Freedom from anxiety and uncertainty at last. She had nursed people to health all these years. Now someone else, may be a stranger, would take care of her.
After the farewell and a few thoughtful gifts, she went back home calmly. Opening the wicker-
(written in the nineties).